


Poetry is Not a Luxury

by homotardigrada



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, M/M, for now, i rob the waynes of their money, theyre time in the lap of luxury is Over, this could be read as a fic with no ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2016-04-04
Packaged: 2018-05-31 04:44:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6456400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homotardigrada/pseuds/homotardigrada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Wayne fortune is lost, and every Batfamily member has a different approach to dealing with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poetry is Not a Luxury

Dick Grayson wasn’t known to be brash or angry in any sense of the words; he could very well be those things, but people liked to disregard it. He was always the happy side to Batman’s dark demeanor- the more relatable side to Bruce’s bold appearance. If he were anything other than that, people would worry. They’d try to find a way to bring him back to being the optimist they all liked him to be. That’s why, when Bruce had asked for his opinion on Wayne Enterprises’ social standing last week, he tried to be what people wanted him to be.

 

It was the reason Dick swallowed any anger he felt for Bruce’s decision yesterday.

 

Bruce had called them all to a mandatory family dinner. With everyone’s lives, there was no choice but to structure it like a business meeting. (To be fair, most of their family dinners inevitably fell into a meeting anyway. It honestly wasn’t suspicious.)

 

Dick had arrived early just to have time to catch up with everybody on his own time. “Hey, Timbo,” he started, “how’s school coming along?”

 

Dick had found him in the manor’s entertainment room, although the actual draw of the room was being ignored. Tim was more entertained with the laptop he had at his lap, browsing who knows what. Dick ignored his natural inclination to snoop into people’s business, making it a point to avoid looking at Tim’s screen as he came around.

 

“Just fine,” Tim answered automatically. “And I'm fine too,” he continued before Dick had the chance to ask. “How's work coming along?”

 

Any semblance of Tim being a regular teenager was endearing. Dick didn’t mind Tim’s curt answers.

 

“It’s coming along,” he answered vaguely simply because he didn't know if Tim was asking about work as a cop or as Nightwing.

 

Tim hummed, looking up from his laptop to eye him out as if he didn’t know what work he was addressing either. He decided he was talking about Nightwing when he noticed Dick’s slight wince when he took a seat next to him. “Are the patrols finally taking their toll on you?”

 

“Maybe it’s the lack of help.” he joked, evading the question. “Have you been going out more often?” Last he heard, Tim had become increasingly absent on the field. The reason Dick knew this was because of the unwelcome quips about Red Robin finally following the “dead robin” trend that Jason started making. As much as he wanted to appreciate Jason’s newfound attempts at friendly banter, Dick was growing tired of it.

 

Tim shook his head. “I've been swamped with working on Wayne Enterprises, but it’s- well, I'll be back on the field again soon.”

 

Now that Dick really looked at Tim, it was easy to notice how tired he looked. Admittedly, Tim always looked tired ( _“not everyone can have your naturally sunny disposition.”_ ), but there was something new about the level of exhaustion in Tim’s eyes.

 

“It’d be nice to run into you again. The rooftops have been less pleasant without you.” It would also be nice to see Tim step away from the business. Bruce was expecting too much from the boy.

 

The two caught up with each other ignoring their vigilante lives from then on. It turned out that Tim was doing great in school. He even had the potential of earning some hefty merit scholarships if he ever thought to apply, not that Dick had ever thought otherwise. He was almost sure that Tim could just invent something if he was every hurting for money. That boy would surpass Bruce’s inventions one day, and it felt like that day would be here too soon.

 

Dick would have continued to worry that Tim was too involved in his work but then Tim mentioned Kon taking him to visit the Kent farm recently and Tam taking him out to lunch just yesterday, and his worries dissolved. At least he had friends around to drag him away from the job.

 

Their conversation ended when Bruce walked in.

 

Bruce hadn’t seen Dick in a while, but their relationship had been better than ever nowadays. Any problems that they had always surrounded whether or not Bruce thought Dick was doing things as efficiently as he should. There hadn’t been many complaints as of late.

 

“Safe trip?” Bruce asked. He was dressed in the perfect mix of bachelor billionaire and CEO (so much so that Dick could safely assume Alfred had dressed him).

 

“Yeah, it was nice. I got to see the coastline on the way here.”

 

Bruce hummed a reply. From there, everyone made their way to the dining room where Alfred had set the table for them. Dick shot the youngest a smile and wasn't surprised when it wasn't returned. He sat himself opposite of the boy, next to Tim. They didn't even take up half of the dinner table, which a subtle reminder of how empty the manor could feel. The first Waynes had built it to support a bigger family, but nobody currently residing in the manor could imagine it being able to handle any more additions.

 

Alfred silently served everybody their food.

 

“I'm glad you could make it, Dick,” Bruce began. “I have some news I wanted to share with everyone.”

 

The fright Bruce’s seriousness tried to instill in others might have worn off on him, but that took him years to grow immune to. Dick didn’t understand why Damian didn’t seem phased by Bruce’s change in tone. In fact, both of his predecessors looked like they already knew what was coming. “What's going on?,” Dick asked, growing concerned.

 

“Wayne Enterprises got into a lot of legal trouble,” Bruce began to calmly explain.

 

He nodded. “I watch the news.”

 

Bruce took a bite from his food before continuing, and Tim and Damian looked like they were only eating their food because it was their excuse not to talk. “It was too much legal trouble, Dick,” he said.

 

“ _Any_ legal trouble is too much for you, but what's wrong? Couldn't sort it out?”  _Need help?_ He asked, almost expecting a mission to follow this up. They had talked about getting through this some other way, but Bruce never called him up to hatch a plan.

 

Instead, he got: “It’s irreparable,” from Bruce, and “I really tried,” from Tim. Nothing from Damian. _No mission_.

 

Dick finally took a bite from his food. He took notice of the way Alfred was watching for his behavior the whole time, as if he had known too. Apparently he had been too late to this whole event, and everyone was just there to deliver the news. The food wasn’t settling well in Dick’s stomach, and his mind wasn’t faring any better.

 

He didn't really want to think of what would happen as a result. Wayne Enterprises was too entwined with Batman and his allies to hope that he wouldn't see it's effects, but Dick could try convincing himself that he didn't need any of the help anyway. He was a working adult, and he already had everything he needed to be Nightwing.

 

If he actually thought about it, this meant that they’d all have to be more cautious. He’d eventually have to learn how to make outdated tech stand up against newer tech  richer opponents could acquire. Then, it'd be less of a balance between gadgets and combat and more of a balance between fight and flight. It’d just end in street fights, which wasn't intimidating at all- that was where most of Gotham’s criminals thrived. Not only that, but Batman’s villains would notice. They're constantly hoping to be able to slip Batman up on _anything_ and this- it would be handed to them. Man, he really wasn't going to think about this.

 

Instead, he was going to finish his food, politely dismiss himself to his room, return to his apartment in Bludhaven sometime during the night to begin an extensive ‘ _what can I do_ / _what could I have done_ ’ investigation, come up with nothing, and proceed to punch the (un)living shit out of a punching bag. There was music blaring through his earphones, and everything was working in his favor to numb any more of his thoughts.

 

It was all going well (as well as it could go from here) until Dick felt a sudden press on his shoulder. The action startled him enough for him to spin around and punch the guilty party.

 

The other man buckled slightly at the hit, but gave out laughter instead of any indication of pain. “Hey to you too.”

 

 _Oh_. “Hey.”

 

Jason had just come out for a friendly talk, yet he still ended up with a punch to the face. _Family_ , as it were.

 

“Sorry,” Dick immediately began. “I really didn't meant to do that, sorry. I just- What are you doing here?”

 

“Angry, aren't ya? Tim described you as sullen.”

 

“Tim?”

 

“He sent me.” That was an idea that didn't sit well in Dick’s mind. “Well, he expressed worry about you, so I figured I'd see what the hell was up with you.”

 

“You’re running his errands now?”

 

He scoffed. “Hardly.” Jason was sporting a bloody lip now. Jeez, Dick hadn't meant to punch him that hard. Jason sighed. “Look, he's been really stressed. Figured this would at least help a little.”

 

“Why are you so keen on helping all of a sudden?”

 

“Are you so keen on keeping me out of it?” Jason’s tone was getting defensive, and okay... Dick could see that he was coming off a bit strong. It’s wasn’t anybody’s fault, but Dick was dealing with a lot.

 

“No.” It wasn’t entirely true, but Dick was making an effort to be kinder to Jason. He might need to compensate for that punch.

 

Jason hadn't really thought through what he was going to do to help a sullen Dick Grayson let alone an angry one.

 

“Well, it's good to see you angry. You can at least do something with it.” Dick sent him a questioning look. “Well, I assume you're angry enough to do something other than kick the shit out of this punching bag.”

 

“I'm not running a patrol with you. Do you even know what I’m upset about?”

 

“Believe it or not, they do still talk to me. Sometimes. That, and Tim thought I'd be able to help on the other end of things a while back.” _The bad, underground criminal end of things._

 

“Could you?”

 

“Not in anyway that wouldn't hurt Bruce’s pristine reputation. Tim is smart, but not that smart.” Jason did wonder whether Tim could have gotten away with it, but it would have been a greater shame if he had failed. “Would you have let him go behind Bruce’s back?”

 

“I _have_ gone behind Bruce’s back.” Sometimes he had to. Bruce would always come around by the end of it though. This would have been different.

 

“You two love to test him, don't you? Beware, his love does run out, and I don't think you'd like it on Team Disappointment.” He was making fun, even if he was the only one that found it funny.

 

“ _Jason_.”

 

“ _Goldie_.”

 

“Don’t call me that. And no, I wouldn't have let him go behind Bruce's back. I just didn't think it mattered all that much to either of you.” Dick didn’t think Jason would want to protect Tim from whatever Bruce might think, nor did Tim ever seem the type to stop himself from doing anything to protect what Bruce has built to protect Gotham. “How did you manage to stop _Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne_ from saving Wayne Enterprises?”

 

“That’s the way you see it?” Jason asked, disbelieving. “I stopped that boy from running the company into shady business practices that would taint Gotham’s opinion of its beloved son. Bruce Wayne has just as many enemies trying to catch him in a scandal. At least this way you’ll still get charitable souls on your side.”

 

Jason was right. That’s all they’d have left after Bruce gave his televised speech revealing the corruption they found within the foundations of the company, asking for city’s forgiveness. That would be enough to provoke heartbreak in the hearts of the affluent, who saw the loss of such wealth as a national tragedy.

 

“Now, as much I love seeing you all down and out of it, I suggest you stop subjecting this punching bag to a beating it wasn’t built to stand and start figuring out how to convince yourself that taking advantage of the drug trade is the most reasonable route now,” Jason stated as if it was the most logical thing to follow-up with.

 

There was, understandably, a bewildered look on Dick’s face. “Look, it’s not an immoral crime to commit if you do it right, and it’s only for the money that you’ll need to use against criminals- you’ll even meet some new ones within the trade,” he continuing, trying to make his point sounder. It wasn’t working.

 

Dick had falsely thought that the day was done putting him through trials. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Look, I’ll let Bruce sink down into a pit of poverty as he struggles to maintain his nightly lifestyle with whatever he’s got left- and I’m not wrong to assume that he will be keeping any money he has left close to his chest- but I won’t let you follow him down there. Not if you don’t have to.”

 

“So you think I’ll get desperate enough to stoop that low for money? I’m offended.”

 

“Figured you wouldn’t like my pitch, but it didn’t hurt to try.” Jason touched his bruised lip. “ _Well_ , I didn’t think it was going to hurt.”

 

Dick cringed at that, but he wasn’t going to give him another apology. Not after the implication that Dick could ever turn to drug dealing.

 

“I know Bruce has always been disappointed with my ‘ill-gotten gains’, but did you ever bother to learn _why_ or did you just take his word for it? I’ve helped people that Bruce has never seen. There are corners that even the dark knight can’t reach, and those corners house those with problems that might seem lesser than a clown poisoning the water supply. They’re still problems, though. There’s still terror in not being able to abandon an addiction, escape a lifestyle, or shake away certain demons. I’m no hero, but I sure as hell ain’t doing what I do for the hell of it. People deserve help no matter what they’ve done.”

 

That struck a chord with Dick and suddenly he understood. _People deserve help no matter what they’ve done_ , he kept repeating to himself, trying to think about anybody but Jason but the thought already stuck with him. After everything Jason had done, it was no doubt he might harbor some guilt. Nobody, not even Bruce, had outright forgiven him for crimes he’d been responsible for- they all just turned a blind eye in favor for having him back in the family. Jason Todd was the poster-child for the concept of deserving forgiveness, _no matter what they’ve done_.

 

Not only that, but Dick remembers saying something similar about reaching out to the people not even Justice League heroes could reach. Superman couldn’t be everywhere, and that’s exactly what Dick told him when he started to deviate from his way of thinking during a mission or two. It had made Superman undeniably upset, but for all of his role model’s disagreement, Dick never felt he had been in the wrong. Maybe Jason wasn’t wrong either.

 

“Okay, pitch your idea to me again, but this time you need to _really_ convince me.”

 

* * *

 

 Dick offers to take this conversation to his loft. Partly because he needed to sit down if he was seriously listening to Jason’s suggestion, but also because this was an extremely private conversation. One that might involve drug dealing.

 

Once they were there, the only thing Jason could focus on was how messy Dick’s apartment was. It made him uncomfortable. He absently wondered how rude it’d be if he asked Dick to put a hold on their conversation so that he could help him clean his apartment instead.

 

“What’s up?” Dick saw the way Jason’s wandered.

 

They were sitting across from each other. Jason sat on a bar stool while Dick was sat on a counter in his kitchen. Dick didn’t ever have enough company to warrant better seating arrangements and they both refused to have this conversation on his bed.

 

Jason turned to Dick and considered mentioning the mess, but digressed. A man with this amount of clothes strewn across the floor was beyond reason. “Nothing, just wondering how I’ll start this conversation.”

 

“You could start with explaining why there’d be no other alternative. Why would I resort to being the criminals I’m trying to fight against?”

 

“First of all, I know that you’ve gone over _why_ in your head already. You’re a bat. But I’ll indulge you because I’m playing defense now.” Dick nodded, urging him to go on.

 

“The first thing you could think to do is nothing at all. That would mean ignoring the fact that all of you relied on daddy-bat’s financial aid. Eventually, it’ll hit you. One day you’re fighting Freeze or Bane or literally any other villain that has the bank to upgrade their tech, and you’ll have a phenomenally horrid time.”

 

Dick began to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

 

“Anyway, I’m sure you’d be fine the first few fights, but the lifespan for those toys is only getting shorter. And that’s not even the problem, really. By then you’d hope the family has gotten enough cash together to try for new tech, but then you’re left to your own devices w-”

 

“Is that a pun?”

 

Jason groaned. “No.”

 

“Left to our own _devi-_ ”

 

“I know.”

 

He frowned. “Fine, go on.”

 

Dick really did want to hear Jason explain all of the worst case scenarios, even if he himself had gone through all of them already. He was right about Dick being a bat- there was no such thing as being too thorough.

 

He proceeded to sit through Jason explaining scenarios where they earn money, but not enough to afford to play catch-up with the villains that have the money to constantly be upgrading their gadgets.

 

There were also scenarios where they tried to do it without the money. It wouldn’t be difficult at first, but once their enemies noticed it’d become a problem. Once they used it against them, Dick would have the same amount of luck fighting the good fight as a cop.

 

“And that doesn’t include the time you’d lose being under the watchful eye of the media. You’d finally have to go out and _do_ things. They’d document your struggle, as if they couldn-”

 

“You’ve said that after every point, Jason. I know.”

 

He sighed. “I hate them.”

 

“We all do.”

 

“Not enough though.”

 

Dick tried to wave off the conversation this was becoming. Jason had enough arguments about the media in the past. He didn’t need to hear it again. “Okay, so what you’re saying is that we’re royally fucked.”

 

Jason nodded. “Knowing that, you have to start thinking of some real solutions.”

 

“And your definition of real means breaking the law?”

“That’s the easiest way of knowing when somebody’s being real. It’s the last resort, and nobody books _that_ trip unless it’s their last-ditch effort.”

 

“What does that say about you?”

 

He quickly quiets down, biting his lip and shooting an understandably upsetting glare at Dick.

 

Dick quickly moves to change the subject. “Okay, I get it. I’m fucked, but I won’t break my moral code just because we don’t have any money.”

 

A few moments pass before Jason just nods. “And none of you ever will.”

 

A few more moments pass.

 

It would have been pathetic for Dick to ask Jason to try convincing him again. They both knew that he was too deep into Bruce’s moral code to be able to do something so drastic. Dick wondered if Jason had ever expected to actually convince him.

 

Still, Dick was happy that Jason tried. It had been a while since the two had had a proper conversation.

 

“What are you doing? What are you thinking of?”

 

“When was the last time you visited?”

  

“What?”

 

“The last time you were here, Jaybird. When was that?”

 

“Probably a long, long time ago. This place is a mess. I hate being here.”

 

Dick rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad. You’re being dramatic.”

 

“Your apartment makes me feel sick.”

 

“Okay, I-”

 

“Your apartment is what inspired Upton Sinclair to write about the atrocious state of America’s working conditions.”

 

“I can clean up if-”

 

“You should have cleaned this shit up a long time ago. ‘Can you not see that the task is your task - yours to dream, yours to resolve, yours to execute?’”

 

“That’s not even a fun book to quote, Jason.”

 

“It’s not, but that’s how far I’m reaching to get my point across.”

 

“If you don’t like my place, we could go somewhere else.”

 

Jason pulled a face. “What for?”

 

“You hungry?”

 

He was. “I’m not.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This idea is constantly changing, so I might come back to change this chapter. I'll warn you now: I don't know where this is going.


End file.
